


mixed pieces of broken down fourth wall plaster (or: the deadpool!theon au I MIGHT write fully one day)

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (YES IT'S A DEADPOOL FUSION OF COURSE THERE'S MILD GORE GUYS), (YES THERE'S THAT TOO AGAIN IDEK), Alternate Universe - Deadpool Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Author Commentary, Bad Humor, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Cinderella Elements, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Disfigurement, Language, M/M, Mild Gore, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Scars, Sex Work, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-14 22:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16921293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which I actually wrote bits and pieces of a deadpool!theon AU on tumblr and never fully went for the entire thing but I figured I'd repost them here if tumblr kills itself. Peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, after the first deadpool movie came out someone on tumblr went like 'BUT WHAT IF THROBB AU' and [it degenerated into a thing where I'd have anons pretending to be either deadpool or deadpool!theon](http://janiedean.tumblr.com/tagged/theonpool) and I'd write them replies seconding them and stuff and I actually did have a plan to write it but I never actually had time for it beyond a snippet from Robb and Theon's first meeting and another crossdressing thing that I came up with on another occasion - one day I'll go for it but as it is I figured I'd post them here before Tumblr committed suicide, so HAVE SOME RIDICULOUS FOURTH WALL BREAKING in which I make too many uses of the tvtropes website. The first ficlet is the reimagined deadpool!theon/vanessa!robb meeting, the second is... crossdressing crack with extra gore. I DON'T KNOW. HAVE FUN. Nothing here is srs.
> 
> As usual: nothing belongs to me, the titles are 100% pulled out of my lack of imagination and honestly idek. *saunters back downwards*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Robb and future!Deadpool!Theon meet.

Fact is: it’s not just love at first sight. That’d be one of the understatements of the century.

The moment Theon Greyjoy sets his eyes on Robb Stark, he doesn’t know his name yet (not in this verse anyway, he does in others, and he’ll become fairly aware of that soon enough but this is not the time nor the place to dig into that, it’s a goddamned romantic moment, not the time to break the fourth wall - again), but he knows it’s not just Love at First Sight. It’s also Love Before First Sight, as the first part of Robb’s Theon sees is not his face but rather his delicious backside - and listen, Robb’s wearing some torn skinny jeans and a shirt that shows more than hides, what’s a man with a healthy sexual appetite and no preferences as far as the equipment goes supposed to do with  _that_? ( ~~Also, technically, Theon’s met Robb way earlier in a bunch of other verses, the one we all know them from first and foremost, but - ah, damn, I said I was done breaking the fourth wall. Sorry, guys, I’m gonna stop now.~~ ) Anyway, it’s not the kind of thing you can just use  _two_  measly tropes for. Because the moment Robb actually turns his back on some asshole who had tried to grope him and glances Theon’s way, it goes  _beyond_  that.

(Later, Jeyne will swear that it was a moment of pure Everyone Can See It™️, and Theon will be fairly happy to hear that - it’s not as if he was trying to hide how much he had felt an instant  _at least_  attraction to the literal sex god appeared from nowhere in front of his eyes.)

It’s not just the frankly delicious backside or the clothes that reveal his toned legs or nicely muscled (but not overtly) chest, it’s  _the entire combination_. Slightly smaller than Theon though with wider shoulders, that Fiery Redhead hair that  _absolutely_  turned Theon into a Heroes Want Redheads cliché right then and then, those huge baby blues, the perfectly regular traits that made him look as if some kind of ancient Greek statue came to life - guys, listen,  _anyone_  would have wanted to at least hit that. Somehow. But it wasn’t just  _that_ , or it wouldn’t have been a Love at First Sight moment.

(Later, Theon will decide that it was also a Fate Drives Us Together moment, but he’ll know that when they actually have a conversation. Which isn’t right now.)

Anyway, Theon’s staring at Robb and Robb turns towards him and he looks at Theon and he gives him a half-smirk that makes Theon’s knees almost go weak and listen, he’s just - Theon doesn’t want to say that it could have qualified for I Can’t Believe A Guy Like You Would Notice Me, but he had thought he’d have to make himself noticed, not that it might have been that easy.

Never let it be said that Theon can’t grasp an occasion with both hands when he sees one, which is why he’s out of his chair and going straight for the corner of the bar where Robb is a moment later.

He’s delighted seeing that the other man is actually coming closer - right, let’s all remember they haven’t actually introduced themselves yet.

“Hey,” Theon says as the red-headed incarnation of gorgeousness sits next to him.

“Hey,” the guy replies, and  _what’s that accent_? Definitely not a Fake Scot. A  _true_  one indeed - is there even a page on tvtropes for that? Because Theon needs to create one if there isn’t yet - and  _damn_  if it’s not making Theon’s blood run a lot hotter than his usual (which is a fair lot). “Are you sure you want to shoot that entire load on drinks for this sorry establishment?”

Theon snorts - well, no doubt on what this guy’s profession is, but he never judged someone based on how they pay their bills - look at  _him_  - or on what they choose to do with their own body, thank you very much.

“Depends,” he says, “thing is, I have  _plenty_  of that to spare. I can save some for you, if that’s what you think you might be interested in. I’m Theon.”

“Robb,” the not-really-a-vision replies.

“Charming. And what’s a nice place like you doing in a guy like this -  _I mean_ ,” Theon starts, figuring that of course he has to ruin a fairly nice pick-up line there, and then that asshole Something-Frey that Theon really fucking hates, he’s a poor excuse even for a mercenary to be quite honest, comes by and slaps Robb on his very nice behind.

“Well, I’d hit that like a hammer,” he says, moving forward.

“Frey, come on, don’t be an assh -” Theon starts, but then Robb smirks, grabs the guy by the shoulder and -

First he puts a hand on his throat and the other goes for the nether regions and  _well_ , damn, Theon has to wince in sympathy for about two seconds in male solidarity, at least.

“ _Mate_ ,” Robb says very slowly, his grip obviously becoming tighter, “how about you stop assuming that I would let you  _hit that_  for free when in order to do it I usually charge, and believe me or not but  _I have some bloody standards_?”

The speed with which Something-Frey yells  _sorry_  makes Theon decide that this is not just a case of Aroused by Their Voice, it’s a case of Aroused by Their  _Everything_  - Robb snorts and lets the guy go with a not so subtle kick to their shin and then turns his attention back on Theon.

“We were saying,” he starts again as if nothing has just happened.

“We were saying,” Theon replies, his hand sort of maybe reaching for Robb’s arm, but he moves back. He’s still smirking though, so Theon figures he hasn’t put him off yet.

“Hands of the merchandise, for now.”

“For now, huh? I can work with that.”

“I imagine you aren’t surprised.”

“I don’t think it matters in the great scheme of things. Also, I did just get paid, didn’t I?”

“Not curious about why I can’t do better? That’s usually what half of ‘em always asks.”

“Is this the moment where we share the Troubled Backstory of doom? Because I warn you, beating mine is hard.”

“ _Really_.”

“My dad was a true asshole of the worst kind,” Theon says shrugging, not that the entire bar doesn’t know.

“I don’t even know who was mine, I grew up in group homes when I wasn’t in foster homes. And I didn’t stick anywhere for a reason. Ever had a cigarette put out on your skin?”

“Why,  _where else_? Also, my mom died when I was five.”

“As if, the only decent foster one I had died in a fire after two months. Her husband decided to take it out on me.”

“Just him? I ended up having to deal with my dad, two brothers and two uncles. Who’d usually spend my birthday using whichever money my mom’s family sent for me to get  _good_  alcohol. And I’d watch from -”

“Your bedroom? Hey, lighten up, at least you had a bedroom. Once I slept under the stairs.  _Yes_ , it still happens and  _yes_ , I was really glad to get shipped back to the group home again. Where I ended up sleeping in a dishwasher box for a month before someone left and there was a free bed.”

“At least you had one, my dad said it was a waste of time. The porn he used to watch wasn’t, though, and neither was mine when I had to wash the sofa’s cover.”

“Well,  _fuck_  but that’s disgusting,” Robb agrees, his face scrounging up in a sympathetic expression.

Damn it, Theon is in love, okay?

“I hope that wasn’t enough to throw you off the idea of  _helping me_  shooting that load later, though.”

Robb laughs and damn but that voice is going to be Theon’s death among other things, all right?

“I’d say there’s a good chance.”

“Really. What do I get with some three hundred quid and a free fish and chips card for that place down the road?”

“Let’s say, one hour of whatever the hell you want, and you can keep the card. Fish and chips is disgusting.”

“Wait, you hate fish and chips too?”

Robb  _winks_  at him.

Theon is  _gone_ , all right?

 

End.


	2. Chapter 2

 “Not to pry, but is this yours or it ended up in your stuff by chance?”

Theon knows that it’s the first answer when Robb’s cheeks turn as red as his hair the moment he holds up this Cinderella doll that has to be as old as the ‘91 re-issue of that goddamned movie. Definitely a Barbie or some shit of the kind - and it’s actually well-kept. Fine, the dress is kind of ruined and the plastic is also, in certain points, but the hair is actually… well, not tangled or anything of the kind and for having been around some twenty years it’s certainly holding up its own decently.

“Uh. Yeah. Might be?” Robb also  _sounds_  embarrassed at admitting that. But Theon’s not having any of that shit - seriously, what’s wrong with being a Sensitive Guy, anyway? Theon likes to think he’s more of a Manly Man person and the likes, but honestly, who gives a fuck. If you want to have dolls when you’re a guy then you should be able to bloody have them.

“Hey, first of all, Cinderella over here is pretty damned badass. Sure as fuck I know that with a family like hers I wouldn’t have stayed that nice or you know, forgave them and shit. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with her or whatever. So, what’s behind it? If you want to tell me, obviously. You don’t have to -” He’s aware he’s rambling by now, but Robb’s also kind of secretive with his Fairly Horrible Backstory and the fact that they just moved in together doesn’t mean he should, like, assume that it’s fair game to ask.

“No, no, it’s okay. I - why not. Might as well tell someone. So, uh, my fourth foster home.”

Right. The one ran by some old bitter woman named Barbery-something who was more after government money than kids’ welfare and who had space for about four other people in the house but somehow had managed to get custody of nine poor souls. And Robb was there for like six months when he was eight at most. Hey, Theon remembers that shit or at least he tries, all right? He knows he has the love of his life here, he’s aiming for being at least a decent boyfriend, thank you very much.

“It was what it was,” Robb keeps on. “Also, it’s not like she ever used her prized government money to buy us anything that wasn’t second hand clothes. Meanwhile, next door there was this rich family - you know, the kind who back then had both parents using cellphones when the things could barely text, their kids had a different coat every other month and they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing second hand shoes. One day I went for a walk while they were taking out the trash and that doll over there fell out of one of the bags and landed on the stairs. The father didn’t even notice it. And -  _well_. It’s not - I never had one before. I mean, not just dolls, toys in general that weren’t common property. I, uh, might have grabbed it. I thought - well. I was what, seven? Eight? I figured that since I rescued her from a horrible destiny I might as well be her prince charming, right? I might have pretended I was when no one was paying attention. Shit, this is embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“Well, how many  _prince charmings_  do you see in my line of work?”

“So what? That’s ridiculous,” Theon proclaims, moving closer. “Actually, you’d make a fantastic prince charming. You have the looks, you have the attitude even if you don’t want to admit it, you rescue stray princesses from the trash cans, why not?”

“Yeah, as if, but thanks anyway. That was sweet of you.”

“I’m a  _mercenary_ , I’m not sweet.”

“Sure, if that’s what you say. Now how about you leave Ella alone and get over here instead? I’d rather christen the new bedsheets.”

“Ella? She has a  _name_?”

“Sure she has a name, it was the minimum decency?”

“And then you say you’re no prince charming,” Theon mutters. Sure as hell Robb would fit most Princely Tropes anyway, even if he might think he doesn’t.

But then he lets the matter drop and decides that Robb has a point - they should christen the new bedsheets and worry about moving Robb’s stuff in later.

Still, that’s pretty much when he gets the idea - after all, why not indulging that? There’s nothing harmful in that kind of fantasy, especially when  _that_ ’s where it comes from. Like, anyone would assume that it’s just fucking sad that you’d end up keeping an old-ass Barbie doll for your entire life just because you pretended you could be her prince charming when you were eight, but if you ask Theon that’s adorable, not sad. Certainly, Theon himself would have no issues wearing a dress like  _that_  to play the part - it’s a fucking dress, not anything that will cause permanent damage if put on by a guy.

And Robb  _does_  deserve a nice surprise, if you ask him.

So he decides that goddamn it, he’s going to do it.

The dress isn’t even the main problem. He visits a few thrift shops and finds one easy enough - blue, fake satin that doesn’t look too tacky, not in need of any reparations, and it’s even in his size and it costs really fucking nothing. That part goes smooth. The real proof of his undying love and dedication to the cause is that he actually considers finding glass shoes, but then he realizes that even if he found any,  _he_  would probably break them the moment he tried to walk on them. Eventually, he gives up on that detail and orders online a couple of regular blue flats - he’s already a bit taller than Robb, he’s not going to fucking wear heels he can’t walk on anyway.

That said, he does go through the trouble of leaving one of the flats on the stairs so that Robb can find it as he gets home, while he proceeds to sit down on the sofa - well, the dress is comfortable at least. He might do it more often. Also, to be truthful here, he looks fucking  _great_  in this. It totally falls on him in all the right ways and blue goes well with his hair and complexion and all - he should wear that more often. Never mind that the flats are comfortable as  _hell_  - ne needs to find some excuse to wear shoes like that more often, they’re way better than his usual heavy boots.

After a last glance at the mirror he sits down on the sofa and waits patiently. Robb should be back in a few, if he’s not wrong.

“What the -” he hears coming from downstairs right on cue. Theon smirks - just according to plan. The door opens not long later - Robb has the flat in his hand and looks completely baffled.

“Do you have a clue of who might have lost -  _oh_.” That sentence dies the moment Robb looks his way and notices the get-up and the bare foot Theon’s showing outside the gown.

“I might have placed it strategically, but let’s say that  _I_  lost it, for all purposes.”

Robb holds the flat in his hands and  _stares_ , as if he needs time to process the entire thing, and he most probably does. So Theon lets him and leans back, smirking all the way through.

“You -  _you_  -”

“I’m waiting for my prince charming and I’m not expecting any dressing codes from him,” Theon drawls, wiking at Robb, who - who looks like he’s about to cry, but doesn’t. He drops his backpack and moves closer to the chair. His hands are kind of shaking as he kneels down on the ground, his fingers smoothing down the dress’ skirt.

“Well,” he says, his hand cupping Theon’s calf, “this  _prince charming_ couldn’t have asked for a better princess, himself.”

“Really? I’m flattered. Are you going to give me that show back so I can thank you properly for it?”

“You aren’t the one who should be thanking me. Maybe the contrary,” Robb smirks as he kneels and slips Theon’s foot into the show. Fits perfectly. Of course.

“Does that mean I get to ask you how I would like this  _exchange of thanks_  to go?”

“‘Course you get to do it. That’d be the least.”

“Well. You know I always like it when you make a show of your  _considerable_  strength,” Theon smirks.

“Why,” Robb replies, looking positively radiant, “we have a deal,  _princess_.”

Theon laughs as Robb moves his hands under his knees and picks him up without much of a problem, dress and all - Theon’s always found it  _ridiculously_  hot that Robb works out enough that he can lift him up without much of a struggle when Theon is a fucking  _killer for hire_ so has his fair share of muscles to add to his weight, and as he throws his arms around Robb’s neck he decides that he’s  _definitely_ going to wear the dress more often.

Totally going on his list of resolutions for New Year’s, which he decides he will start trying to stick to way before New Year’s rolls by.

——

Thing is: if the  _boyfriend of the year_  award existed, it should be a thing awarded to fucking Robb Stark without even making it a competition. The fact that in  _some_  universes Robb is, in fact, an actual fucking Prince Charming ™ is - not a surprise? Whatever. What Theon’s sure of is that it’s a miracle that Robb’s settling for  _him_  in his current status. Especially given what he brings to this relationship, these days.

Especially when Theon comes home in  _these_  fucking conditions.

“Er,” Robb says as Theon hobbles inside, bloody red suit and all, “what is  _that_.”

“Fucking Jon Snow. Wouldn’t just try to kill the bad guy’s henchmen and all the usual Lawful Good Stuff he has going for him and he’s still in charge of the damned unit, what can you do. So I didn’t kill a guy when I could have and it ended up with - er. A case of severed foot. I guess. Could’ve been worse. It’ll grow back if I can’t reattach it first.”

“… It  _reattaches_.”

“Yep. That serum was quite a fucking wonder, wasn’t it?”

“Christ. And where did that happen?”

“In front of Jeyne’s. Good thing she barely even notices it when it happens by now. I’ll just - wait it out. I guess. You don’t have to be here for it, if it’s - gross. Or anything.”

“God. No, it’s - I had something to do, so - I’ll just - go. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He runs out of the room and Theon just flops on the sofa - he knows he’s staining it with blood but who cares, he’ll send it to the dry cleaner’s later. He doesn’t mind that Robb bolted - it’s already a miracle that Robb can look at him in the face without flinching, he’s not going to expect him to stick around to watch a fucking foot grow back.

So he’ll just stay still and try to not bleed out all over the fucking sofa. Sounds legit. He can do that. It’s not as if he’ll walk before some six hours, feet don’t grow back as fast as -

The door slams open and  _Jeyne_  walks in.

“What,” Theon says.

“Your  _boyfriend_  sent me over,” she replies, cackling. “He has instructions for you.”

“He has  _instructions_  for me.”

“Just you wait.” She leaves and heads straight for their bedroom.

 _What the fuck_. He hopes Robb authorized her but he figures he did, Jeyne never expressed any interest in walking into  _Theon_ ’s bedroom at any point in all the time they’ve known each other.

(He doesn’t think about  _other realities_  because - when it comes to him and Jeyne, he just  _doesn’t_  go there. Period.)

So he waits for the instructions. Whatever that fucking means.

Then his mouth falls open when Jeyne comes out and dumps on the free chair that dumb blue princess dress Theon bought once upon a time and he had assumed Robb threw out a while ago.

“He kept  _that_?”

“He said you should wear it. Hey, I’m just the messenger here. By the way…  _kinky_ , isn’t it?”

“What, wait, when did he -”

“Ten minutes ago. I think he was looking for something through that rubble you and your hero friends left in front of my poor bar. Good thing I have insurance.”

“But - but -”

“Hey, he wants you to wear it, I just told you. Sayonara, Theon.”

She leaves and he just - stares at the dress. Robb couldn’t mean it. He can’t have  _kept_  it. Except that he did.

Except that he obviously did, and he even sent it to dry cleaning because it’s not even dusty and it’s spotless, and Theon will start doing very Unmanly Things if he thinks about it any further, so he just - takes a deep breath and starts stripping in order to put on the damned thing. If he stains it, he figures Robb can send it to dry cleaning again.

He wears the dress.

The only good thing about it is that his body hasn’t really changed as far as fitting in his old clothes went, so the dress still fits perfectly. But that’s about it. His  _face_  - Christ, he’s going to hate fucking Ramsay Bolton forever in the centuries, of the hate you reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater, and it doesn’t matter that he’s dead and gone and occupying his reserved place in whatever special hell was concocted for him, he’s never going to get over it.

He feels goddamned ridiculous, with all that silk touching his rough, scarred, bloody skin, and he wishes he knew what Robb was fucking thinking and why on Earth he kept that dress,  _that_  is a question he’d like answered -

“Sure as hell I signed up for an interesting  _princess_ , didn’t I? Good thing I always had a strong stomach.”

Theon looks at the door - Robb’s there and he’s…

Holding up in his hands the boot Theon was wearing when he left to stop the Evil Mastermind of the Week ™. But if he’s holding up Theon’s shoe, then -

“Is that my fucking foot?”

“What kind of serious prince charming would  _not_  do that?” Robb’s smiling a very shaky smile, but he’s… holding a severed foot in his hands without flinching, isn’t he? “I mean, regular lost shoes are for principiants. I like to, uh, rise up to the occasion if I’m needed.”

“You - you -”

“Theon, you fucking idiot, I didn’t sign up for this thinking that I’d get to ignore the small print.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

Robb snorts in response. “Serious princes don’t care for such petty matters. Besides,” he goes on as he gently kneels down in front of Theon, who at this point has flopped back on the couch, “You might not look that pretty anymore but you’re still  _my_  princess, you ass. Do I have to, uh, er, just keep it against the stump?”

“Uh, yeah,” Theon replies, his mouth going dry at once. “A couple minutes should work. I’m sorry, it’s -”

“Theon?” Robb looks down in order to place the severed foot against the place it was severed from and Theon tries to ignore the unpleasant, squishy noise it makes. “I don’t care. Just don’t move. And by the way, the dress still looks great on you.”

“… Does it?”

“Sure. I can show you how much exactly when this thing attaches itself. I guess. Shit.”

“If you don’t want to look at it, you don’t have to -”

“Fuck off and let me do this, all right? I mean, it’s - fucked up, but… sort of cool?”

“ _What_?”

“Hey, you know how many people who lose their limbs would like it if they got reattached this easy?”

“I don’t - right, fine, knock yourself out,” Theon concedes, not that he has any words left, and Robb seems fairly satisfied at having left him speechless.

“Good. That’s plenty better. Also - yeah. It’s -  _something_.”

Christ, Robb is seriously looking at his flesh knitting itself back together. He is.

“Robb, I said it before but if you don’t wanna look at it”

“And I said I do. Can you just accept already that your looks were never the reason I told you my real name when we met?”

Okay, he knows that  _in theory_  same as he knows Robb only ever gives out his real name to people who aren’t  _clients_ , but listen - Theon’s always been a healthily vain person and knowing that in the original ‘verse he came from he got it worse than here (hell, at least here he has the cool superpowers and Robb’s not  _dead_  and if he loses limbs, well,  _they grow back_ ) has made this more bearable in a not so slightly morbid way, but it’s still a blow to his fucking ego. He’s still not sure that Robb really seems to not give a fuck.

Then again - then again - now that he thinks about it -

“Huh. Okay. Makes sense. It’s not like you  _aren’t_  the real thing in that other universe, all things considered -”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” Explaining Robb that there’s a universe where Cinderella’s Prince Charming actually  _wears his face_  would be entirely too complicated and it’s a miracle Robb doesn’t mind everything that’s changed until now, he’s not going to smash the sixteenth wall or something when it comes to the poor guy. It’s already fucking maddening enough to be aware of it himself, he wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. “Ah, shit, [never mind that you’ve been my personal prince charming once already because the person writing this fanfic has  _issues_ with](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F3575913&t=Y2NmMjdmOGYzYTk2MjkxOTFjZDljNDk0MmMwOWU0MGY1YzUyY2U4YixwS3pBS0t5Vg%3D%3D&b=t%3AdgHLSIMGwdyIxk-MZARAFA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fjaniedean.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157159028028%2Fthat-deadpooltheonrobb-crossdressing-fic-yall&m=1) -”

“What?”

 

_( **THEON FOR THE LOVE OF THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER I’M TRYING TO GIVE YOU A FEW JOYS HERE, HOW ABOUT YOU SHUT UP AND STOP META-ING?)**_

 

“Never mind.” Theon decides that getting the author mad on top of confusing Robb even more is just not worth it.

 

**_(Why, THANK YOU)_ **

**_(@ readers: THE AUTHOR IS SINCERELY SORRY I’M GONNA STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL AND SELF-RECCING AND THEON’S GONNA DO THE SAME_ )**

 

“Actually, that’s more weird than whatever you think of your looks,” Robb mutters. “But - doesn’t matter. Looks like this is healing up, so how about I get you proper shoes instead of this disaster you have on your feet?”

“Sure - sure you can,” Theon replies, his throat so choked he can barely breathe by now.

“Good. Then stay put.”

Where else would he even go, he thinks almost hysterically as Robb leaves. He comes back with those two blue flats Theon had worn with this same dress once upon a time -  _he kept them too?_  -, then he takes off Theon’s boots, the one that had been holding his severed foot a lot more delicately. Then he throws the boots in the corner. Theon doesn’t look down at his feet, they’re barely better off than the rest of him when it comes to outer scarring, and they’re even bloody now, but then Robb grabs his left ankle delicately and angles it so he can slip the first flat on. The he moves on to the other one and does the same, still so much more carefully, and he doesn’t quite let his ankle go after he’s done.

“Much better, right?”

“Christ, I don’t know if this means you’re completely nuts or if it just means that I was right when I saw your face for the first time and thought you were my other half,” he blurts out without even thinking about it, and he wants to die of embarrassment right after -

( _he doesn’t say that he_ knows _it’s the second thing, it’s always the second, but with all the other universes in which they can’t be together he wouldn’t have wanted to presume_ -)

but then Robb just smiles in a way that makes Theon’s breath leave his lungs and a moment later the bastard has lifted him up in a bridal carry all over again,  _what’s he even doing_ , and he’s downright smirking in a way just very smug people do.

“Well, maybe then we should give a proper go to the whole true love’s kiss deal, shouldn’t we?”

Theon chooses to ignore that the writer of this fanfic is kind of playing it safe with the tropes when she doesn’t just go down hard on them - she’s hopeless like that, after all - and for the first time since he received that diagnosis years ago, he beams back without feeling self-counscious about how he looks for a moment.

“Sure thing,  _darling_. By the way,” he decides to ask, figuring that their original ‘verse might be shitty but there were some good things about it, and maybe knowing them because he met Snow in this one means it was worth it to have the bastard calling on him every other moment to save the world and all that crap, “you ever heard of a thing named  _lord’s kiss_ , other than the true love one?”

“No,” Robb replies. “But I’d like you to show me what it’s about very much.”

Theon is more than glad to,  _after_  he has a shower because there’s a limit to everything (a shower in which Robb joins him without even blinking), and decides that if this is what the author has decided counts as the obligatory happy ending…

It might not be ideal, but it’s  _theirs_  and he’s going to enjoy every damned second of it.

 

End.


End file.
